


The Lester-Howell Family

by TheUKAmazingDan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bad Parenting, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phandom - Freeform, Supernanny, naughty children - Freeform, parent!phan, supernanny au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-02 17:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUKAmazingDan/pseuds/TheUKAmazingDan
Summary: The Lester-Howell residence has descended into chaos! With children Dillon, Daphne, and Damian running the roost, it’s up to Jo Frost to help these frazzled parents before it’s too late!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been watching too much Supernanny recently and this kinda just happened.

It was a cloudy day. Cloudy days always made me sad, because then the sun couldn't shine through the windows of my home office while I worked. Unfortunately, there always seemed to be cloudy days in London. It was just how it was. Gloomy and gray and depressing. 

I sighed, then returned my attention back to my computer screen. I was sat at my desk, finishing up a design for a client and observing the mess that my workspace was in. My desk was covered in pens and sticky notes, all bearing the name of my business, "Howell Web Design." I picked up my mug of lukewarm coffee from a clear space and shook my head. It was a piss-poor cup of coffee. I didn't have time to doctor it up with cream or sugar anymore. My life had evolved from a slow-paced luxury to a nightmare racing at supersonic speed. 

There was always something to do, nowadays. I suppose that's what happens when you have three kids, though. When I wasn't working professionally, I was working on household chores. Not that doing household chores was very difficult, but it was the mundanity of the tasks that got to me. I didn't want to spend all day doing laundry or scrubbing floors. I wanted to spend time enjoying life with my family again. 

We had three children, all adopted. Dillon, the eldest, was fourteen. We had adopted him a week after his fourth birthday. Then, three months later, we were sat in a children's hospital in the center of London, praying he would make it through the night. A spinal tap confirmed a diagnosis of acute lymphocytic leukemia. 

What doctors described as a disease that they could effectively treat turned into a raging monster that destroyed him and his body. He did round after round of chemotherapy, which caused his hair to thin and fall out. Every time we combed it chunks just fell out into our hands. We finally just decided to shave it off. 

After about a year and three months, we finally got the news that he was cancer-free. We cried, and cried, and cried. It was a good cry, though. And now, nine years later, he was healthy and had a full head of dark brown hair that sat straight as a pin. 

We were happy, just the three of us, but a few years later we decided we would like another addition to the family. Daphne was about six months old when we adopted her. 

From the beginning, Phil absolutely adored her. He got up with her in the night, warmed all her bottles, changed all her diapers, and insisted on being the one to walk around with her strapped to his front in her little baby carrier. So, it was really no surprise that she turned out to be Phil’s ‘princess’. And she knew it, too. From the age of two, she knew she had him wrapped around her finger, and it hadn’t changed since. 

Though she was Phil’s angel, she was my nightmare. Of course, she was my world, just like my other children, but she was the naughtiest. It was almost like she came out of the womb acting up. She screamed, swore, kicked, clawed, and spat. She somehow knew every vile word in the English language and used them to describe her brothers and I frequently.

Then came along little Damian. We adopted him when Daphne was three and Dil was ten. He had the blondest hair and bluest eyes of any baby I’d ever seen. It was almost as if he was one of those toys that breathed and cried when you pressed a button. As soon as his birth mother signed over her rights and we brought him home, Daphne threw a tantrum because she wanted to play with the ‘dolly’. We had a time stopping her from grabbing him up from the floor like a baby doll and dragging him across the room. 

In a way, I was grateful that our kids were a bit older. It gave me time to focus on my business and let them have some independence. But I also missed the days when I had to help Daphne blow her nose and put the toothpaste on Dillon’s toothbrush. It was so simple back then. 

I sighed, then put down the mug and spared a glance at the photographs sitting in frames on the end of my desk. There were pictures of the children, one of all three making a snowman in a local park, another of them sitting at the beach with their toes in the sand. There were also pictures of Phil and I. A beautiful picture from our wedding and another from Japan capturing the moment that Phil proposed to me. Back when I didn't have bags under my eyes or crinkles in my forehead.

I just didn't feel like myself anymore. I didn't feel 32, I felt 102. It had been three years since I had gotten a good nights sleep. Every night our youngest son crawled into bed between Phil and I. Phil was a pretty heavy sleeper, so it didn't bother him, but once I was awake, it took hours to get back to sleep. It didn't help that he kicked me constantly in the ribs, either. 

I couldn't even remember the last time I awoke to only Phil and I in our bed. Gosh, I couldn't remember the last time Phil and I were alone together for more than five minutes, let alone the last time we had sex. That was one of the things I missed the most. Having sex with Phil let me unwind. It was a kind of therapy for the both us, allowing him to just loose control and have me any way he wanted me. It had to have been at least a year since we did anything other than make out.

I pulled myself out of my wishful thinking and rubbed my eyes with my fists. A slight throb had started in my head and I knew that a migraine was coming. I was almost finished coding the final details of the website, but I decided it would be good to take a break. Besides, it was almost time to check on Damian, Dillon, and Daphne, then I would need to make all three some lunch. 

I pushed my office chair out from the desk and stood, my back popping as I did so. I groaned. My bad posture was catching up with me, and it came with a vengeance. As I walked to the door of my office, I could vaguely hear the sound of some kind of video. I caught the words "Anglo-Saxons and Scots" and remembered that Daphne had told me yesterday that she was doing a unit about the settlement of Britain. 

I trudged into the hallway of our rather large flat and went directly across the hall to Damian's play room. His actual room was downstairs near ours, but because my office was in the second floor of our apartment, we decided that making the extra room a play room would be a good idea. The door was wide open, so I only popped my head in to check that nothing was amiss. He was sat on the floor in his green t-shirt and denim dungarees, playing with a toy truck. "Hello, Darling!" I cooed, making him look up at me with his big blue eyes.

"Hi, Daddy!" He replied cheerfully back, then returned his attention to his toys.

"What do you want for lunch?" I asked, leaning a bit against the doorframe. 

"Sammich!" He exclaimed, shaking his sand-colored hair in excitement. 

"Sandwich, Love. Sandwich." I corrected with a chuckle then moved into the room and bent over to pick him up. "Goodness, you're heavy!" I teased, scooping him up in my arms. "You weigh as much as a big boy!"

"I am a big boy!" He smiled. 

"Really, cause big boys don't wear nappies!" I sang, patting him on the bum. "Big boys don't need them. Speaking of which, do you need to go to toilet?"

"No!" He shouted. 

"Are you sure? Remember, if you go in the bathroom and not in your nappy you get ice cream." I reminded him, praying to the potty-training gods that he would learn soon. I really couldn't take it much longer. 

He only pouted at me. 

"Fine." I said, putting him down with a sigh, knowing that I would have to change his diaper within the hour. "I'll go make your lunch." He scrambled back to whatever he was doing, then acted like I wasn't there. 

I shook my head fondly, then exited the room, almost tripping on a stuffed puppy on the way out, and made my way to the other end of the hall to Daphne's room. I knocked on her closed white door once, then awaited her reply. "Come in!" A tiny voice called sweetly, but I knew better than to trust her tone. 

I opened the door a bit and looked in. I was happy to see that she was at her desk, doing school work, but there was a scowl a meter long on her face. "Are you doing alright?" I questioned, careful not get her started in a fit. Once she started it was almost impossible to get her to stop. When she began to cuss, hit, and scratch, Phil had to hug her to himself until the rage had passed. I didn't even try to calm her down anymore; the scars on my left forearm from her nails were enough of a warning to stay away. 

"Fucking amazing." She smiled, but then tightly clenched her jaw. She was doing what looked like a social studies worksheet, and if she was that wound-up about matching terms and unscrambling words, I certainly didn't want to add fuel to the fire. 

"Is there anything you'd like for lunch?" I asked, pretending I didn't hear the foul words coming out of her mouth. 

"I don't know. Whatever the fuck you're making.” She said back, her tone still sweet and innocent. 

"Now, that language isn't-" I began, but I stopped mid-sentence when her chair whipped around to face me. Her hazel eyes were cold as stone, but her normally pale face was almost as red as her hair. The picture contradicted her voice, but I was almost used to it. She was always quick to turn from sweet to malicious.

"Whatever the fuck! Fuck you! Fuck this shit! Get out of my fucking room!" She screamed, jumping up from her chair and running over to the door. Instead of waiting to be hit or scratched, I swiftly backed out of the doorway and shut the door, keeping a strong grip on the doorknob. She tried to pull the door open, but I held firm as she yelled and banged things around. Where she had gotten this from, I didn't know. 

A few minutes passed, and it seemed like she tired herself out since the sounds from behind the door became quite. Instead of opening the door back up and confronting her about her behavior, I cowardly crept away from the door and down the stairs to the first floor. I wasn’t afraid of her, I just didn’t think it was worth it. It would be better to deal with it later when Phil came back. 

As soon as I hit the bottom step I could hear screaming and gunshots coming from three rooms away. I sighed, dreading the next confrontation. Nonetheless, I dragged my feet through the living room, kitchen, and down another hallway to my eldest son's room. The noises only got louder as I got closer, and when I finally arrived outside of my son's door, I took a big breath of courage before knocking curtly and opening the door without waiting for a reply. 

He was sat on the bed, wearing the same clothes he wore yesterday with a video game controller in his hands and microphone-headset sat atop his straight brown hair. He didn't even look up from the game as I entered, completely unfazed by my presence. I coughed loudly, hoping to get his attention, but all he did was let out a string of vile words and another shout. 

"Dillon, what are you doing?" I questioned like we hadn't played this same game before. 

"Stuff." He replied, not taking his eyes of the screen. 

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Dillon. Darling, why aren't you doing your homework?" I questioned, putting both hands on my hips and scowling. 

Instead of answering me, he laughed. "Oh, it's just my Dad." He said into the mic. That was the final straw. 

"Dillon Henry Lester, put down the controller right now, or so help me God, you will regret it." I threatened. Nothing. He sat perfectly still, except for his moving fingers. "That's it. You're done. I'm taking the Xbox out of your room."

That seemed to do the trick. He was up in a flash, controller out of hand and headset strewn on his bed. "Don't touch my fucking stuff." He bellowed. 

He was only fourteen, but he still scared me. From the time he was ten, he started lifting weights and doing kickboxing. When he wasn’t playing video games, he was at the gym two blocks down from our building, He had more muscles in four years than I ever had. He was also starting to grow, and I knew he would probably end up taller than Phil and I, which led me to think about what kind of giants had sex to make him. 

“I’ll punch you in the fucking throat. Don't fucking touch it." He threatened, coming closer to where I stood near the door.

"That's no way to talk to me." I shakily reprimanded. "And I am taking it."

"Go ahead and try." He growled, taking a step closer. I instinctively backed up a step. "Yeah," he laughed cruelly, "that's what I thought."

A burst of anger exploded in me. "You just _wait_ until your father gets home." I responded, a bit braver. 

His eyes got a bit wider. "You're telling Pa?" He questioned. Apparently the threat of Phil was scarier than my presence. 

"Yep. And you know his punishments are worse than mine." I answered. 

He paused for a second, then changed his demeanor from intimidated to confident. "Whatever. I don't really fucking care." 

I was puzzled, scared, and angry all at once. He had never said anything like that before. "Well....you just wait!" I repeated, not quite sure how to handle the situation anymore. 

"Don't worry, I'll be right here." He chuckled, turning away from me and walking back to his bed. He picked up the headset from the sheets and put it back on his head then grasped his controller tightly. He turned back to his game, but gave me one last side-eye. "Oh, and could you close the door when you leave?" 

I was stunned. Instead of saying anything in return, I quietly backed out of the room and shut his door. What the hell happened to my son? No, what the hell happened to all of my kids? 

\- - - 

At exactly five o'clock the door to our apartment opened with a bang. I practically sprinted from the living room, where I had been reading, to the stairs that led to our door. I took the steps two at a time and almost knocked Phil over as I ran into him. "Oof! Jeez, Babe!" He laughed as I hugged him, then put down the bags he was holding so he could wrap his arms around me. 

I was so happy to see him, I could cry. "It has been a day." I groaned, burying my face in his shoulder. 

"What happened?" He asked, concerned. "Was it work or the kids?" 

"I wish it was work." I huffed. "You and Dillon need to talk." 

"What the hell did he do?" 

I leaned my head back to look him in the eyes and began to tell the story. "I went to his room to see if he was doing his work, and he was playing on his Xbox. I told him he needed to get off but he ignored me. And then when I told him to just wait until you got home, he laughed in my fucking face! Just kinda changed from scared to cocky within seconds." I explained, making sure to leave out the part about him telling me he would punch me in the throat. "I want his Xbox out of his room and locked in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet." 

"Seriously? What's gotten into him?" Phil pondered, giving me one last squeeze before letting go. 

"No idea." I replied sadly. 

"Don't worry, I'll talk to him." He assured me, running his hands up and down my arms in a soothing gesture. "The Xbox will be out of his room and locked away somewhere by seven."

"Thank you." I sighed in relief. "Now, what's in the bags?" I asked, sniffing the air. 

"Chinese! I got you your favorite!" He smiled. 

"How in the world did I get so lucky?" I giggled, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. 

"I'm the lucky one -" Phil began, but was cut off by a loud yelp courtesy of Daphne. 

"YOU'RE HURTING ME! LET GO OF MY HAIR!" She screamed from somewhere up the steps, obviously crying. 

We both sprinted up the stairs to see what was going on, Phil's bags bumping me in the back the whole way up. The scene wasn't as bad as I suspected, but it was scary enough. Daphne was laying stomach-down on the floor of the living room with Dillon twisting her legs in position that would make my bones crack. Damian was sitting beside her head, his four-year-old fist full of Daphne's bright red curls. Her face was tear-stained and she had her eyes closed and face scrunched up. 

"What the hell are you doing? Damian and Dillon, let go of her!" I shouted, running over to where the wrestling match was taking place with Phil on my heels. Damian instantly dropped her hair, then started to bawl. Dillon was still going though, so I grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to pull him off of her, but he was stronger than I realized. My grip barely did anything at all. 

"Dillon, now!" Phil boomed from behind me. He came up beside me and pulled Dillon off of Daphne without much trouble. "What's wrong with you?" He questioned, pulling the boy up to stand in front of him. "You're almost seven years older than her! You could seriously hurt her!" 

While Phil yelled, I sat on the floor and pulled both Damian and Daphne into my arms. Both cried and whispered, which led me to quietly shush them and kiss the tops of their heads until their tears dried up and they were quiet. They were done crying before Phil was done lecturing, so the three of us sat quietly on the floor and watched the scene progress. 

"Pa, I wasn't trying to hurt her! I was just messing with her!" Dillon defended, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Seriously?" Phil responded sharply. 

"We were just playing!" Dillon yelled, uncrossing his arms and balling his hands into fists. 

"I never want to see that behavior again, Dillon. Is that understood?" Phil stated coldly, moving closer to him. He refused to look up into his father's face. "I asked you a question. Is that understood?" He repeated. 

"Yes, sir." Dillon muttered begrudgingly. 

"Great!" Phil responded brightly, snapping right back to normal. "Now, you can take the bags into the kitchen, Daphne." He ordered, looking at the little girl with a smile. She immediately hopped up and grabbed the heavy bags by handles before staggering off towards the kitchen. She knew not to argue with Phil after he disciplined her older brother. "And Dillon, you can go set the table." He added. 

Instead of arguing, Dillon followed Daphne without a word. If there was one thing that could stop his obnoxious attitude in its tracks, it was a lecture from Phil. I looked down at Damian who was still sat on my knee and frowned. "So, why were you pulling on Daph's hair?" I questioned. 

"Dillon said to!" He cried loudly. 

"Okay, okay! Don't cry, dear. But you will need to apologize to her at dinner." I stated firmly. 

He nodded, but didn't say anything else. 

Phil let out a heavy sigh from above. I looked up, only to see him running his face with his hand. "I hate doing that." He sighed again, shaking his head. 

"I know, Love, but it's that only thing that works." I replied quietly, then held Damian a little tighter as I got up off of my floor, my legs cracking as I did. "Goodness!" I groaned, then placed Damian down on his feet. He ran off towards the kitchen as soon as I let go, which made me smile as I got closer to Phil. I placed one hand gently on his chest and used the other to drag his face down to kiss me. 

He softly kissed my lips, then pecked my cheek as he pulled away. "Thanks." He whispered with a small smile as my hands fell to my sides. "I'm going to go confiscate his Xbox. You supervise them."

"Good thinking, Captain." I joked with a grin, then gave him a salute before following the children. 

He smiled widely as we parted ways, he to the disaster area known as Dillon's room and myself toward the kitchen where we had a large island to eat on. When I entered the kitchen, Dillon immediately stopped talking to Daphne. 

“Has an apology been made?” I questioned, moving over to where Daphne had set the bags on the counter. 

“Yeah.” The two replied simultaneously. 

“Very good.” I said back, not really feeling like it was very good at all. 

\- - - 

We had hit rock bottom. If there was one thing that I was sure of, this was it. 

I was laying in bed, staring straight up at the ceiling. I glanced over to the alarm clock on the bedside table and let out a tired groan. The green lights flashed 3:17. It was going to be another night of thinking instead of sleeping. 

"Phil?" I whispered, rolling over in our bed. 

A snore answered me. 

"Phil!" I whispered again, this time lightly tapping him on the chest.

"What?" He finally answered in a sleepy mumble.

"I've been thinking..." I murmured, scooting a bit closer to him.

"I've been sleeping." He mouthed quietly back. 

I paid him no mind. "I've been thinking about the kids." 

"What about the kids?" He questioned, finally opening his eyes a bit. He brought an arm up to wrap around my bare shoulders and half-pulled-half-wiggled my body closer to his. 

"I've realized that we have no fucking clue about raising kids." I answered, snuggling close with my arms around him and laying my head on his chest. 

He brought his other hand up to play with my hair. "Dan, I'm sure no one really knows what they're doing when it comes to kids." He replied.

"No, I mean, we have some serious issues."

"Like what?" He scoffed, still running his fingers through my curls. 

"Damian is still in nappies, Daphne cussed me out today, and Dil told me he would - well, Dil was so disrespectful." I listed, my voice cracking a little as I again left out the part about throat punching. 

"Damian is only four, Daphne is only repeating what she hears, and Dillon is just being a teenager. They'll all grow out of those things." He reasoned, trying to reassure me. 

"I'm not sure." I sighed, hugging him tighter. 

"Love, everything is going to be fine. All children have problems. It not like we need Super Nanny or anything." He chuckled. "Now, can we please go back to bed?" 

"Yeah." I answered quietly.

"Amazing. I love you." He yawned, then settled down into bed, effectively trapping my arm underneath of him. 

I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep, but the familiar creak of the door opening made my eyes snap wide open. "Seriously?" I whispered miserably to myself, but dutifully pulled my arm out from under Phil and made room on the bed. Damian quietly walked from the door to my side of the bed, then scrambled up over the side and then over me. He snuggled in between Phil and I, then landed the first kick to my ribs. This would be a long-ass night. 

We seriously needed help. And Phil might have just suggested the perfect way to get it.


	2. Chapter 2

"You can't be serious!"

"As a heart attack." I replied, sitting down beside him on our bed.

It was rare that we had the house semi to ourselves. We had allowed Daphne and Dillon to visit their friends around the apartment building and sat Damian down with some coloring pages in the living room with Finding Nemo on the television. Now, I could talk to him about my idea without much interruption, but he wasn't having any of it.

His arms were crossed and his face was screwed up into a look that obviously meant 'no'. Everything about his demeanor was going against my suggestion. "Babe, what's wrong with how things are? They're fine! We're fine! We don't need to go on some show to know how to raise our kids."

"Phil, I love you, but you're wrong about this." I sighed, grabbing his crossed arms and leaning towards him. "Listen, you're not here with them all day. You don't witness Daphne getting so upset that I have to lock her in her room. You don't see Dillon disrespecting and threatening me. And it's not good for Damian, either. I don't think he's doing as well as other children his age." I pleaded earnestly, trying to make him see my point of view, but he wouldn't budge.

I could tell he was getting angry. His face was slowly turning red and his crossed arms were joined by clenched fists. "You're making a big issue out if something we can handle." He grumbled.

"Alright, maybe you can handle it, but I can't! I can't do this anymore! I never wanted to think this, but I don't like who my children are!" I explained, moving my hands from his arms to his shoulders. "They look and sound like my children, but I know they can't be. They live in our house, eat our food, and call me 'Dad', but they aren't my kids. My kids wouldn't kick and swear at me. And they certainly wouldn't threaten me. We've lost them." Tears threatened to fall as I spilled my feelings. I squeezed his shoulders and tried to ground myself so I wouldn't cry. "Please." I pleaded, sniffling.

He unclenched his hands and uncrossed his arms. "Baby..." he sighed in a long drawn out type of way. It only made me want to cry even more. "Don't do that!" He muttered, pulling me to him. I easily fell onto him and placed my head on his shoulder as I continued to sniff. He wrapped his arms around me and started to rub circles on my back. "Honey..." he sighed again, his voice wavering between a tone of annoyance and of pity.

"I didn't want to tell you this, but Dillon said he would punch me in the throat. I can't deal with him. Please, can we just try it? I'm desperate, Phil." I pleaded, looking up into his eyes and willing him to just say yes.

He looked away from me and let out a little huff, then pulled an arm away to rub the back of his neck. He paused for a few more moments, then looked down into my eyes. "Do you really think this will fix anything?"

" I do." I replied seriously.

"Then I guess it's worth a try." He relented, a small smile on his lips.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered, squeezing me back.

"Thank you." I repeated softly, letting go and looking into his face. We both leaned forward, eyes half-closed, and just as my lips were about to meet his, a piercing scream shattered the quiet.

"DADDY!" Damian screamed from the living room. I didn't even need to ask him what was wrong, because I already knew.

"Every damn time." I remarked with a groan. "Can't you do it?" I asked, but I was already getting up.

Phil laughed as I walked towards the bedroom door. "He called for you. Remember that." He chuckled.

I dragged my feet on the way to the living room. We had been changing diapers for seven years, and frankly, I was getting a bit tired. I wasn't surprised when I got to the living room. The sight was almost typical. There Damian was, writhing around on the floor.

"What's wrong, Love?" I questioned, already knowing the answer.

"I have to go potty!" He whined, his hands flying down to hold his crotch.

"Well, if you have to go, we can go to the bathroom and try in the toilet." I suggested, knowing the suggestion would be shot down.

"No!" He wailed. "I want a nappy!"

"Damian, you put on big boy underwear today for a reason. You need to try." I sighed, feeling defeated already. That morning I had put him in regular underwear instead of a nappy, hoping that would inspire a change. And now, just like every other time I had tried, he refused.

"Noooooo!" He screamed. His face was bright red and spit flew from his lips as he fought.  "I want a nappy!"

I really didn't want to fight with him. "Fine. We'll go put on a nappy." I relented extending my hand and hoping the tantrum would end.

Damian happily hopped up from the floor and grabbed my hand. As I led him away from the living room, my mind wondered somewhere else. This would be the last time I did this. I was determined about that.

\- - -

"Alright, I think I have it all set up." Phil chimed from the bedroom.

I was in the living room watching a freshly changed Damian. He was playing on the floor again, coloring another picture with his chubby crayons as the television played softly in the background. He would definitely be fine for the few moments it would take to film the interview portion of the submission tape required for the show. I also needed to write an email detailing the children's behavior and sign loads of contracts, not to mention getting a few videos of the kids 'in action' before they would accept the application and send a professional camera crew to our home.

I looked down at Damian one last time, then quietly got up from the couch, making sure not to disturb the peaceful state the toddler was in. I snuck out of the living room and once I was in the hall I began walking normally. It was almost surreal that we were doing this. We actually were making proactive decisions on how to handle our kids. It made me smile a bit.

When I walked into our bedroom I couldn't help but laugh as I shut the door. "It looks like we're set up to make a sex tape." I giggled, looking over the setup. It was an old but familiar site. Phil used to do the whole "internet entertainer" thing. I'd never been into it, but Phil loved it.

"It's been so long I don't believe either of us remember how." He chuckled, adjusting his position on the bed as I sat down beside him.  
His face turned from silly to almost serious as I settled in. "So, what do we have to say?" He asked, eyes bright. As time passed he seemed to get more and more excited.

"I'm pretty sure the application from the website said our names and professions, then we introduce the children and talk about our concerns." I explained, reiterating what I had read on the application.

"Alright. Let's do it." He grinned, then gave me a peck on the temple. He hopped off of the bed to turn on the camera, then rushed right back and sat down beside me again. "Do you want me to start?" He asked while he settled down.

"Sure." I nodded, a wave of butterfly erupting in my stomach. It was only the submission and I was already nervous.

"Okay." He breathed out, then smiled at the camera.

\- - -

"Hello, Love!" Phil called up the steps from the front door.

"Hi!" I yelled back down, trying to greet him over the sound of Damian's screaming. He was about half an hour into a tantrum and I had given up on trying to shush him. When things carried on this long I just had to pick him up and hold him so he didn't hurt himself worse than he was hurting his own vocal chords.

Damian let out another blood-curdling scream upon hearing Phil's voice. "PAPA!" He screeched, finding his second wind. His sudden boost of energy allowed his wrist to break free of my tired grip and before I could try to grab it back he whacked me as hard as he could in the face.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, immediately loosening my already broken grip on him to cup my throbbing eye. This allowed Damian to wiggle down from our spot on the couch and run toward the steps where Phil was rushing in.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, setting his things down as soon as he entered the room and scooping up Damian who was still screaming. He shook of his coat, then hurried over to the couch and kneeled beside where I sat.

"Jeez..." I muttered. I was hunched over, one hand over my eye and massaging my temple with the other. I was about one minute away from having a complete breakdown.

"Baby, what happened?" Phil asked again, reaching up to brush my hair out of my face.

"PAPA!" Damian screamed again from the floor where Phil had sat him. He actually had the back of Damian's shirt in a death grip and the little boy was not having it. He twisted and turned and beat his hands wherever he could.

"He smack me right in the fucking eye." I groaned, pulling my hand away from my face, which made me wince. "What does it look like?"

"He got you good..." Phil cringed. Another piercing wail from Damian interrupted his sentence, and his eyes developed a look that I knew meant trouble.

"PAPA LET GO." Damian shouted, squirming around on the floor.

Phil turned from me to him and I could tell there was about to be a showdown in the middle of the living room. "Damian, you need to stop." He stated sternly, pulling Damian into a sitting position by his shirt.

"NO!" He yelled back, spit and snot flying. His face was as red as a tomato and his voice was already starting to break in weird places from all the screaming. He continued to cry and pout.

Phil had only been in the house for a few minutes, but I could tell he was already at the end of his rope. He scrubbed at his face with one hand, trying to calm himself down, but it did little to stop the red that was slowly spreading up his neck. It was like his frustration was boiling him like a lobster. He leaned in very close to Damian's face, which earned him some spit in the eye, and snapped, "I am going to count to three. If you are not done crying by that time, you are going to going to the playroom and you will not come out until I come to get you. Understand?"

He got no response, just more wailing.

"One." He started, putting up his index finger on the hand he wasn't holding Damian with. The counting didn't seem to have any effect on his behavior. "Two." He continued, adding his middle finger. "Three." He finished, popping out his ring finger as well. When the boy's crying failed to slow, Phil simply picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.

"DADDY! DADDY!" Damian began screaming, then started to smack Phil in the back while he carried him towards the upstairs room.

It broke my heart. Seeing him crying for help, even though I knew it was for his own good, it snapped my heart into two pieces. I buried my face in my hands, careful not to apply too much pressure on my injured eye and cried. God, I probably cried as loudly as Damian. It wasn't just the fact that Phil had to literally rescue me from our four-year-old or the pain from where said four-year-old had punched me, it was everything.

I couldn't do anything right. I couldn't control my own kids. For God's sake, I couldn't even take them all out of the house without Phil's help. And here he went, rescuing me again and again, just like every other time.

I was suddenly pulled out of my own sobbing stupor by the sound of Phil's booming voice and another piercing shriek from Damian. I stood to go check on them when a buzzing from the door caught my attention. It was probably the neighbors coming to complain again. I wiped my eyes gingerly with my sleeve and took some deep breaths to prepare myself to face whoever was at the door. I forced the tears to stop, and even though the deep breaths helped, I was still heaving. I could feel my eye starting to swell, but I knew it was too late to do anything to cover it up.

I stepped down each step carefully, then opened the door as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs. Instead of a concerned neighbor there was a postal worker standing there. Dressed in his official outfit, he looked a sight better than I did. He held a very large envelope in his hands, which he handed over after a very awkward greeting. He looked me over once, then hesitated before wishing me a good day and walking away. I put on a fake smile and bid him well, then slammed the door and turned back around toward the steps.

"Good God..." I mumbled, then leaned back against the closed door and looked over the envelope curiously with my one good eye. It was addressed to Phil and I from a company called Ricochet Entertainment, but I assumed it was for him. Since he worked for the BBC as a radio host and occasional editor, companies sent him express mail all the time.

I trudged back up the steps and realized that the screaming was still going and that the mail man probably heard it. I was mortified, and I could feel my face flush a bit in embarrassment. As soon as I came into the living room I could hear the sound more clearly, and instead of just hearing Damian's tantrum, I could also hear some choice words coming from Phil.

That concerned me. Phil never swore too severely around the children, especially Damian. Instead of letting whatever was happening continue, I decided to walk back to Damian's room to see what was going on.

Once I came within mere feet of the room, Damian let out another howl and Phil let another f-bomb slip. I hurried into the room,, only to see Damian sitting on the rocking chair and Phil leaning against the far wall and clutching his arm.

"What the hell is going on?" I questioned Phil.

"He bit me three times!" He groaned, and I then realized that blood was steadily gushing through his fingers and onto the carpet.

"Holy shit!" I remarked, then went over to have a closer look. I gently moved his hand and more blood cane squirting out. I instantly let go of his arm. "Put some pressure on that. I'll go get a towel."

He muttered another curse under his breath as I moved back into the hallway. As I hurried to the bathroom to get a towel, Daphne popped out of her room. "What's going on? Papa never swears at us." She asked, puzzled.

"Well," I began, brushing past her and into the bathroom, "Damian bit him a few times and there's a lot of blood." I opened the closet inside of the room and pulled out the first towel I put my hands on, which happened to be a pink and green one with yellow and purple cartoon ducks all over it.

"Is he going to be okay?" She questioned as I came out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

"I think he'll live." I replied, hustling back towards Damian's room. He had stopped screaming and started crying again and Phil was leaned against the wall furthest from where Damian sat on a rocking chair, looking queasy. He never was very good with blood. As I approached him I noticed the bleeding was worse than I thought. Blood was flowing from between his fingers as he tried to cover the bites and there was a trail of blood dripping down his arm and onto the carpet.

"I think we might be going to A and E." I remarked, gently grabbing his bloody hand and pulling it off of the wounds. He let out a hiss and I immediately noticed why there was so much blood. Damian had broken the skin all three times and his canines and gone in pretty deep. Phil definitely needed stitches.

"I think that might be a good idea." Phil muttered, looking away from his arm as I placed the folded up towel over the bites.

"Put pressure on it." I ordered, and his hand immediately shot up to do so. "I'm going to call a cab and we can go, okay?" 

He only nodded and bit his lip, obviously trying not to let out any more curses or cries. 

I could only really see out of one eye at that point due to it swelling, but I was determined to get everything in order so we could go as soon as possible. I cautiously made my way out of the room and down the steps to the living room where I had left my cell phone. Once I got there, I noticed Dillon had emerged from his room and was sitting on the couch, seemingly unbothered by the commotion from moments ago. "What's wrong with Pa?" He asked, not looking up from his phone.

"He needs to go to A and E. Damian bit him." I answered, then dialed the number of a cab service and waited for them to pick up.

"Bit him? Jesus, how bad is it? And what happened to your eye?" He inquired, looking up from his phone and suddenly a bit more concerned.

"Damian's on the war path." I responded, then quickly gave the woman on the other end of the phone our address as soon as she picked up. I hung up the phone as soon as I relayed the information, then turned back to Dillon. "Will you be okay staying here with Daphne until we get back?'

"Yeah, sure." He agreed, then his eyes lit up. "Can I order takeaway?"

"I'll leave some money on the counter. Make sure Daphne likes what you get." I agreed, then rushed back upstairs to get ready. I made a checklist in my head as I ran and tripped up the stairs. I needed to get Damian ready, grab Phil's coat,  grab my coat, and leave money for takeaway. I walked as quickly as I could to the scene of the incident with my goals fresh in my mind. One, I needed to get him ready. 

"Daddy!" He cried as soon as I walked in, but I didn't have time to mess around. I needed him ready to go in about two minutes. I grabbed him from the chair and picked up the pair of shoes from his floor that he had, at some point, kicked off. I successfully got both shoes on, even though Damian decided to try and kick me during the process. 

"Go downstairs and grab a coat, then wait with Dillon on the couch." I ordered, making sure there was no weakness in my voice. I knew if there was any hesitation he would start again. Miraculously, he did as I asked and walked out of the room and down the hall.

Then I turned my attention to Phil, who had his eyes closed and was looking quite pale as he sat on the floor beside the pool of blood that had drained from his arm. "Darling, can you stand?" I murmured, gently shaking his shoulder that was attached to his uninjured arm. I knew he hadn’t lost anywhere near enough blood for it to be affecting him physically, but the sight of blood always seemed to make him faint. This was no exception, and I made up my mind to help him out the door and down the stairs so he wouldn’t fall. 

"Yeah." He mumbled, then let go of his arm and shakily pushed himself up. I helped by grabbing his good arm and practically pulled him up. He stood on wobbly legs, so I looped my arm through his uninjured one and walked/dragged him from the room. When we met the steps I helped him down one at a time until we reached the bottom, then led him to the living room and let him fall onto the couch beside the boys.

"What's wrong with Papa?"  Damian asked, poking Phil's side with his fingers. 

"You hurt Papa pretty badly." I answered quickly, then picked up Phil's coat from where he had dropped it on the floor and rushed to the kitchen where my coat was draped on the back of one of the chairs by the island. I knew my wallet was in my coat pocket, so I pulled it out and opened it up. I fished two ten pound notes from inside and laid them on the island, then place my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. 

I prayed we would be back before midnight.

\- - - 

We weren't back before midnight. It was about three in the morning when we arrived back at the apartment. As soon as we stepped inside the door I could hear the television blaring, and Damian shifted around sleepily in my arms. I gently smoothed his blonde hair back from his face then kissed his forehead, hoping he would stay asleep. Phil went up the stairs ahead of me and I followed once I heard the television click off. The apartment was draped in a comfortable silence.

When I arrived in the living room I noticed both Daphne and Dillon were asleep on the couch. “Should we wake them?” Phil whispered.

“Let them sleep.” I murmured back, moving quietly past the couch. I headed toward the hallway to put Damian to bed. I entered his room and laid him on his bed, then unzipped his coat and took off his shoes. I somehow stripped him down to his underwear without waking him, which I gave myself a pat on the back for, and tucked him in. I quietly exited, and shut the door of his room with a faint click. 

I sighed and shuffled tiredly towards Phil and I’s room down the hallway. Phil was already inside, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, sitting on the bed and examining the plastic sheet covering the strips of gauze over the bites. “How do you feel?” I asked quietly as I entered the room and shut the door. 

“Not as bad as I thought I would.” He replied, a wry smile on his face. I nodded and began to take off my clothes, which Phil watched with a bright look in his eyes. I threw my shirt into our laundry basket and he licked his lips then looked up into my face. “You know, we haven’t done anything in a while...” He began, trailing off as I unbuttoned my jeans. 

“It’s been a while.” I agreed in a sultry voice, letting my jeans hit the floor with a small thump. 

“I’m going to call work and tell them I can’t come in tomorrow, open the letter that was on the living room table, then I’m going to ravish you.” He listed, as he watched me hook my fingers into the band of my boxers teasingly. 

“Sounds like a plan.” I replied breathlessly, letting the fabric snap back against my hips. I felt like I was floating as I walked over to the bed and sat down while he quickly called his office.

“Sorry, I know it’s early, but I can’t come in today.” He spoke apologetically. “Yeah, I was at the A and E...I’d appreciate that....thank you. Bye.” He hung up, then turned his attention to the letter, which he must have picked up when we arrived home. He opened it with one rip and pulled out the papers inside with a practiced ease. His eyes skimmed the words for a few seconds, then he turned to me with a smile growing on his face. “We were accepted.”

“What?” I questioned, not understanding as I crawled onto the bed beside him. 

“Supernanny. She’s going to come help us.” He replied, the excitement evident in his voice. 

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, bringing my hand up to cover my open mouth.

“I know. I can’t wait.” He laughed, reaching over to pull me towards him with his uninjured arm. I instantly kissed him and wrapped my arms around his neck as I crawled into his lap. He brought his hands down to grip my behind, and I was about to kiss his neck when our door was opened unexpectedly. I scrambled off of Phil and onto my feet as Daphne entered the room. 

“Papa, I threw up.” She announced miserably, raising her hands to wipe her eyes. Her shirt was messy and I could see she had some in her hair. The smell was enough to make me gag.

Phil got up from the bed and walked towards the little girl. “Let’s clean it up and then you need a shower.” He ordered, his voice filled with a new exhaustion. He ushered her out of the room and gave me a look that meant ‘sorry’. I felt bad making him handle a sick Daphne, but he knew it was something I couldn’t handle. He fainted at the sight of blood and I threw up at the sight of vomit. It was just one of those things. 

I promised that I would wait up for him, but as soon as I crawled into bed I knew I wouldn’t last. I laid my head down on my pillow and fought to keep my eyes open, but I could feel them slipping shut. The day had been absolutely terrible, but the news that Supernanny was going to help us filled me with a new resolve. Things were going to change.


End file.
